Riddled
by RiddledWithWolfstar
Summary: There's just something a little bit off about that Riddle child... Several one-shots highlighting events of Tom Riddle's life.
1. Prologue

At a glance, Tom Riddle was often considered the most attractive child in Wool's Orphanage, with his perfectly symmetrical face, dark, neat hair, and clear blue eyes. One might say he could be carved out of marble, with his skin complexion and the almost inhumanly even structure of his face. However, he was often overlooked by those looking to adopt, many of whom heard tales from the other orphans and even the orphanage director, Mrs. Cole, about "that strange Riddle child." Among those who were daring enough to speak to Tom, they returned from the visits looking visibly shaken and only helped spread the rumors about young Tom.

Not to say that they weren't true.

Some of the tales may have been a bit exaggerated, some, maybe not. All, however, held some variation of how _unnaturally quiet_ he was ("Should any child his age be like _that_? He ignored us half the time, like we weren't even there!"), how _detached_ he seemed ("Like he was in his own little freak world!"), and how _unnerving_ his stare was ("I'm telling you, no emotion, none whatsoever, like a child psychopath!").

Many of the potential parents suggested sending him to a mental hospital, to check if he was "touched in the head."

The other children agreed vigorously to this sentiment, anything to get rid of "that creep Tom Riddle."

To the outside world, Tom was a riddle, indeed. He was perfectly aware of how the children and adults spoke of him. He didn't care, not in the least. It only gave him more reason to not trust anybody—especially the adults. He wouldn't trust them at all. Not after his bastard of a father abandoned him to this hell, not after his weak, useless mother died after giving birth to him. Even though she _did_ die, she _trusted _the orphanage staff to take care of him, and what did they do? They abused him. Because he was _different_. Because he was _powerful_.

Well, he would show them, one day. One day, he would be so powerful he would make _their_ lives hell, for discriminating him, abusing him, _underestimating_ him. He would get his revenge.

He would show them. He would show them _all_.


	2. Father Dearest

**A/N: Sorry I didn't put this up in the Prologue; I forgot…**

**Anyways, these one-shots are going to be very random but should be updated regularly, every week or so. I'll try and tell you when I can't update. (The reason it's being updated so soon is because I just had this idea this morning.)These are just snippets of Tom's life at the orphanage, and you can give suggestions for the next chapter by PM'ing me or just leaving it in your review. Of course, the time doesn't have to strictly be before Hogwarts; it can be during summer or the year at Hogwarts itself, just specify the year(s). **

**Disclaimer: Forgot this in the prologue too… Well, I don't own anything except the idea, but I'm working on stealing Tom :) This is for the rest of the chapters too, by the way.**

**So… please review with a cherry on top? :) **

Father Dearest

_July 11, 1942—Tom is 16_

Tom Riddle sat (predictably) alone under the weeping willow in the orphanage courtyard. This time was different than all the other sweltering summer days, though—it was a glaringly obvious development that scared the other teens—what could it mean? For Tom Riddle was missing his book.

At the tender age of three, Tom Riddle had begun to read. It only convinced more people of his "freakishness"—most of the kids around the orphanage began reading at six or seven. Nonetheless, Tom brought out a book without fail every day they were allowed in the courtyard. During the frigid winter months, he could be found sitting straight-backed on his bed with a book in front of him. This process had not changed when he came back from Hogwarts for the summer—Tom sat under his tree, with books of varying sizes accompanying him. (Unbeknownst to the other orphans, these books were all about wandless magic.)

So when Tom Riddle was seen without his books, the other children and teens immediately began jumping to conclusions.

The most popular amongst the children being that the apocalypse had come early.

The other orphans, however, did not see that Tom Riddle was indeed holding something—not a book, but something even more important than any book could be to him.

It was a ring.

A thick golden band held a perfect diamond of black stone, where, in the middle, it held an insignia: a triangle with a circle centered inside it, and a line splitting the triangle in half.

This ring was both a family heirloom as well as a vessel… for a piece of Tom's soul.

Tom was quite proud of how he had gotten a piece of his soul inside of the ring. Even more proud than he was of his diary, the first Horcrux. The victim for that was a useless girl. The victim for _this_ Horcrux, however, was his _dear father_.

Tom enjoyed reliving the day he killed his father. When he got back to Wool's Orphanage that night, he had laughed. And laughed. And laughed more. He went to sleep with a madman's smile on his perfect lips. The smile felt foreign on his face—he wasn't very used to showing such emotion. But, he thought, he had a perfectly good reason to smile.

Tom relished the moment when he saw the fear in his father's eyes. He loved the feeling of power that surged through his veins as he whispered the fatal words, _Avada Kedavra_, that slipped between his lips like a loving caress. When the blinding green lightning erupted from the tip of his wand, he kept his eyes wide open, to see his father and his grandparents taking their last few breaths, then crumpling to the ground. He had been so caught up in the moment that he didn't notice the salty wetness that had developed on his cheeks until it was over. (His humanity wasn't completely gone after all.)

Tom was a person who hated weakness. The tears, he saw as a weakness. But in that moment… the deed was done…

Tom decided, in that moment, it was okay to be weak.


End file.
